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WONDER OF WONDERS! How great the soul is! Do not you all wonder & admire to see and behold and hear? Can you all believe half the truth, and admire t… - Timothy Dexter
" "WONDER OF WONDERS! How great the soul is! Do not you all wonder & admire to see and behold and hear? Can you all believe half the truth, and admire to hear the wonders how great the soul is—only behold—past finding out! Only see how large the soul is!—that if a man is drowned in the sea, what a great bubble comes up out of the top of the water! the last of the man dying under water—this is wind—is the soul that is the last to ascend out of the deep to glory—it is the breath from on high doth go on high to glory. The bubble is the soul. A young fellow's for gunning for the good of bodies and souls.
English
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About Timothy Dexter
Timothy Dexter (January 22, 1747 – October 23, 1806) was an American businessman and eccentric who is perhaps best known as the author of A Pickle for the Knowing Ones, an autobiography notable for its bizarre content, near-complete lack of punctuation, and extremely erratic spelling and grammar.
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Additional quotes by Timothy Dexter
How Did Dexter make his money Inw ye says bying whale bone for stain for ships in grosing three houndred & 40 tuns bort all in boston salum and all in Noue york under Cover oppenly told them for my ships thay all Lafed so I had at my one prise I had four Couning men for Rouners thay souned the horne as I told them to Act the fool I was foull of Cash I had Nine tun of silver on hand at that time all that time the Creaters more or Less Lafing it spread very fast heare is the Rub in fifty Days thay smelt A Rat found whare it was gone to Nouebry Port speklaters swarmed Like hell houns to be short with it I made seventey five per sent one tun and halfe of silver and over one more spect Drole A Nouf I Dreamed of warming pans three Nits that thay would doue in the west ingas I got not more than fortey two thousand put them in Nine vessele for difrent ports that tuck good hold…
Trouth I afirme I am so much of A foule the Rougs want to git my Jouels & Loavs & Littel fishes without my Leave Leave is Lit thay all Caled me A foull forty years Now I will Call all fouls but onnes men Now to brove me A foull I Never Could sing Nor play Cards Nor Dance Nor tell A Long storey Nor play on Any mouskel Nor pray Nor make A pen when I was young I Could play on A Jous harp it would mak my mouth warter and the Ladeys sumthing warter gess what I sade Nothing A good Lafe is beter than Crying A Clam will Cry And warter wen thay are out of there Ellemen so wee the same if I had Not the gost in my house I would I mean give Lite to my brothers & sisters and have A pease all over the world and beat the trouthe into my frinds houe goud it is houe onnest it would be and houe man kind has bin in posed upon & houe thay have bin blinded with untrouths gosts and mister Divels there is Now None of that order all Lye the mesonek if thay wilt make a book of trouth I will give the Creaters but I will take the Chare and put my frind bonne partey on my Rte hand And the grat ginrel meroue on my Left hand A Nuf to give the sword is in the banks A Emper only be still I will take the helm in Love I am A quaker but I have so Littel sense I Cant Deseave I Can swep my hous & git all A Noue gelt & goue out of hell is bless Law and trouth and Reason on my side it must be done when I git my worthy widdow it is Dun Not one word of Anger as Long as I Live to a A good woman I a firme
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